Note 1 — (RE-PRINTED BY DESIRE.)

This old Cornish word Bucca (still in common use) has various significations, and none very clearly defined. It appears to belong to the same family of words as the Irish “Pooka,” and the Welsh “Pwcca.” As above, it is often applied to a poor, half-witted person of a mischievous disposition—one about whom there is anything weird or wisht—to a ghost, or any kind of frightful apparition, and by association of ideas to a scarecrow. By Buccaboo, which is probably a corruption of Buccadhu (black spirit) we mean Old Nick, or one of his near relations. As an example of this, there is a story told of an old lady who lived long ago at Raftra, in St. Levan. The old dame, when more than fourscore, was so fond of card playing that she would walk almost every Winter’s night, in spite of wind or weather, to the village of Trebear, distant a mile or more, that she might enjoy her favourite pastime with a family of congenial tastes who resided there. The old lady’s step-daughter wished to put a stop to what she regarded as rather scandalous vagaries, the old dame seldom arriving home before the small hours of the morning; with this intention the young mistress persuaded the serving-man to array himself in a white sheet, &c., so as to personate a ghost that was accused of wandering about a lonely spot over which old madam would have to pass. The Winter’s night was dark and rainy, when, about midnight, the ghost seated himself on the side of Goon-proynter stile, where he had to wait two or three hours. The dear old lady was in no hurry to leave pleasant company as it was Christmas time. At last the old lady passed Padz-jigga, mounted the stile, and seated herself to draw breath opposite the ghost. Over a while, she said, “Hallo! Bucca gwidden (white spirit) what cheer? And what in the world dost thee do here with Bucca Dhu close behind thee?” This cool address so frightened Bucca-gwidden that he ran off as fast as he could lay feet to ground, the old lady scampering after, clapping her hands and calling “Good boy, Buccadhu; now thee west catch Bucca gwidden and take’n away with thee!” The ghost was so frightened that he fell in a fit and was never right in the head after. Then he was a real bucca in the sense of our Betty’s sweetheart, and the strong minded sociable old lady enjoyed many more years of her favourite pastime with her friends in Trebear.

Another Bucca of the mischievous class lived in St. Just but a short time since, who gave rise to the saying “Between both,” as Bucca said. Being, as usual, loafing about the public-house of a pay day, when there is more than the ordinary good cheer about, Bucca happened to look into a room where Capt. Chynolds and another gentleman were sitting in the window-seat. The captain said to the intruder, “Which art thee, Bucca, a fool or a rogue?” Before making any reply, Bucca placed himself between them, then answered “I’m between both, I believe!” Another day he was idling about a new shaft that two men were engaged in sinking—one filling the kibbal, the other winding up the stuff with a hand winze. The man to grass told Bucca to take hold of the winze and wind up a few kibbals whilst he lighted his pipe. Bucca wound up two or three all right. When the next kibbal full was near the top of the shaft he called out “Hold on there below while I spit on my hands a minute.” Down went the kibbal, winze and all smash, and half killed the man below. Bucca took to his heels crying “Triz-wiz, triz-wiz; whipper-snapper, catch me if thee cust.” (canst).

Another trick of the Bucca was to watch when the women put a nice bit of cake to bake that they might have a comfortable cup of tea before the good man came home from work. They would be sure to go out to coursey (gossip) a bit while the cake was baking. Then Bucca would steal in, carry off the cake, and place a turf under the bake-pan, carefully covered with fire again. When the gossip came to take up the nice bit she might be heard to exclaim “Well I never thought I’d been out so long; my cake is burned to ashes.” ↑